


Avatar: The Guardian Spirit :: Book 1: Stability

by KennaM



Series: Avatar: The Guardian Spirit [1]
Category: Avatar (TV), Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Next Generation, Post-Canon, Sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-14 17:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1274479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennaM/pseuds/KennaM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 256 AG and 15-year-old Sunal, who's known she was the avatar since a young age and chose to pretend to live a normal life, can't hide her secret any longer. Given the option to start formal training with the Order of the White Lotus, she decides instead to find her own bending masters, and sets out with her older sister Jinnak, a nonbender, to find out who she's supposed to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Pronunciation Guide:  
> Sunal (written 순알 or 筍謁) is pronounced sort of like 'soon-all'  
> Jinnak (written 진낙 or 辰諾) is pronounced sort of like 'chin-nahk' (the 'j' is very soft)  
> Mi-ryung (written 미령 or 美竜) is pronounced sort of like 'me-r'young'

There was a little rectangular garden tucked behind the apartment building, with a small shed to one side that the residents used to store their gardening tools. In the space between the shed and the brick wall dividing the garden from the next row of apartments, Sunal huddled, hugging her knees, staring at the dirt.

She could hear her sister calling for her, but didn’t think to respond. Instead she sat there and willed herself not to cry, focusing on her breathing, feeling the earth beneath her feet and the comfort of the close space. The little garden spirit stopped to stare at her as it passed by the opening, then continued on its way.

“Sun!” her sister called again. She was in the garden now, Sunal could tell. She always knew exactly where to find her. It was only moments later when Jinnak’s face poked around the corner, and she peered down at the girl.

“Sun,” she said again, now in a calmer tone. “There you are.”

“Now everyone knows, Jin,” Sunal said. She could hardly breathe or speak the words.

“They were going to find out eventually,” Jinnak knelt down at the edge of the shed, smiling halfheartedly at her younger sister. “You only had seven months left anyways.”

Sunal just buried her forehead in her knees.

“Come on,” Jinnak said, “let’s go inside.” She waited for a moment, and then sighed when Sunal still didn’t respond. “You’re not getting anything done just sitting out here, Sun. Come inside and wash up and eat or something.”

“Did mom send you to get me? That sounds like something mom would say.”

“Mom didn’t send me. I haven’t even seen mom yet.”

Staring her bent lap, Sunal thought about that. It was still the middle of the day; her mother should be at work, as should Jinnak. She’d have to have left work early to come get Sunal. Slowly, Sunal began to stand up. Jinnak looked relieved.

“How did you hear?”

“I’m extremely perceptive,” Jinnak said, trying to brush off the question. Sunal followed her out into the garden, but she stared at her, waiting for a real answer. A frown creased Jinnak’s face. “One of the other drivers mentioned there was some hubbub at your school. I asked for the day off. It’s no big deal.”

“So everyone knows then.”

“You’re going to be fine, Sun. It’ll all be fine.”

*

When her mother walked into the apartment, Sunal was sitting on the couch deeply engrossed in the game playing out on the screen before her. The cord from the game controller in her hands snaked across the floor to the machine under the TV, joining all the other wires and cords scattered about. Her mother set her purse down on the kitchen table and instantly went to hug her daughter’s shoulders. “Is everything OK?” she asked. “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, mom,” Sunal said.

“She’s fine,” Jinnak repeated from the kitchen where she was washing dishes. 

“You sure?” their mother asked again. She stood up to let her daughter go, and Sunal frowned. She’d complain about it a lot, but secretly she liked having her mom’s arms around her. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said instead. Sunal pretended to still be concentrating on the game, but it was more a distraction than anything else. A game she had played many times before already, which she didn’t have to think too hard about to win.

“That’s different than what you said before,” but instead of pressing the point Sunal’s mother headed back into the kitchen to retrieve her purse. “I’m allowed to worry you know,” she added, as if trying to stand up for herself. Jinnak paused what she was doing to turn the faucet off, then turned to give her mother a quick, if slightly damp, hug. 

“Of course you are,” she said, and then in a lower voice, “she’s still dealing with it, don’t push her.”

Sunal said nothing. Now that she was calmer, she was started to mentally berate herself for her reaction, reminding herself of everything Jinnak had already said, that this was going to have come to light eventually anyways. That there was no good in freaking out like that. The words of the White Lotus delegates repeating themselves in her head, wondering why she should have kept it hidden in the first place.

The thought suddenly occurred to her, and she paused her game. “The White Lotus will be here soon,” she said, turning around on the couch to face the open half of the kitchen, “won’t they? Have they called yet? They usually call.”

Her mother seemed hesitant to respond, to which Sunal frowned and turned back to the screen. “They must know what happened,” she muttered loudly, “it’s not like anything I do is secret from them. They always know when something happens.” She pursed her lips, remembering.

“I told them to hold off for a while.” Sunal’s mother strode through the living room to the hallway towards the master bedroom. “They might be here later this evening but not until your father gets home, at least.

Sunal just nodded. That was what she expected. She unpaused her game as her mom disappeared into the hallway, and Jinnak went back to washing dishes, no one saying anything. When she was done, Jinnak left to go to her room as well, leaving Sunal alone in the main room of the house.

The music from the game filled the otherwise quiet room but it was no longer much of a distraction. She tried for another few minutes to focus on the screen, but found she couldn’t get her mind off of what she most wanted to forget. Dwelling on it was dangerous, she knew, and yet she couldn’t stop herself.

When her face started to get hot and she realized she’d been sitting there, staring at nothing for several minutes, Sunal paused the game again and promptly stood up, taking a deep breath and heading towards the kitchen. In the sink, she let the water run for a bit to cool before cupping it in her hands and wetting her face. It soaked the black strands hanging over her cheeks and the fringe over her brow, but it felt nice. The dishtowel Jinnak had been using was still damp, so Sunal grabbed a new one to dry her face with.

It didn’t make her feel a whole lot, but she didn’t feel like she was about to cry anymore either.

There was a sudden knock on the door and Sunal’s stomach filled with dread until she realized it was much too early for the promised visit. Light was still streaming in through the cracks in the kitchen window curtain; it was even too early for her father to be home.

She crossed the kitchen to the foyer to open the door. Mi-ryung stood on the other side, staring up at her unblinkingly through messy curls. Behind her was a neighbor woman, the lady who lived upstairs and walked all the children back to the complex after daycare.

“Hello Sun!” The woman said brightly, and Sunal plastered on a smile.

“Hello!” she said, “thanks for bringing Mi back!” They exchanged pleasantries for a moment while Mi-ryung passed into the room, dumping her shoes and her schoolbag on the floor, then Sunal said goodbye and closed the door.

“I had a good day,” Mi-ryung said without being asked. She had the fridge door open, staring inside. It was the same thing she would recite to whomever opened the door when she came home in the afternoon, a habit formed out of protest for their parent’s constant questions. She didn’t say anything else and Sunal didn’t feel the need to ask anything else.

Sunal closed the fridge door after a moment when it was apparent her little sister wasn’t getting anything out. “The white robes are coming over later,” she warned. She sat back down on her spot on the couch, but the game remained paused.

“Did something happen?”

“Sorta.” Sunal didn’t know what to say. To change the subject, she said, “get your stuff, and go tell mom you’re home.”

Mi-ryung obeyed wordlessly, picking up her shoes and her bag and leaving down the hallway. 

Sunal didn’t realize how much time had passed when she heard footsteps out the front door again, and suddenly realized just how dark it had gotten in the family room. Setting her game to save, she quickly jumped up to turn the light on just as the front door opened. When her father walked in to the kitchen, she was standing in the archway between the kitchen and family room, staring down at the floor unassumingly.

“Hey,” he said softly. There was a pause as she said nothing back, and he skipped through all the ‘how was your day’ parts of their usual greeting. “Is everyone else home already?”

“Yep.”

“Anyone been by?” They both knew what he meant, and Sunal shook her head.

“Not yet.”

Her father sighed, then pulled a chair out from the dining table and sat down. “We should probably eat,” he said. “Before it’s much later.” Sunal nodded.

“We have leftovers,” she said, “I could reheat something.”

“I should cook something properly,” her father countered. Sunal wanted to point out that he was still wearing his shoes, still sitting at the table, had just barely come home.

Doors opened elsewhere in the apartment, though, and Jinnak reappeared moments later carrying some book she was reading. She positioned herself on the couch while their mother came out, hugging their father and asking about his day, making small talk.

“What do you want?” Sunal asked Jinnak while their parents chatted. She’d scavenged the refrigerator and held up two different glass containers of leftovers from the previous nights. Jinnak glanced up, then made a face.

“Not leftovers,” she said, “I want real food.”

“This is real food.” Sunal grimaced a bit at her own words, but she was too emotionally drained to worry about sounding rude now.

Jinnak sighed and set her book down before standing up and joining the others in the kitchen. “Move,” she said, not unkindly. Sunal stood out of the way and watched as Jinnak riffled through the pantry for a bit and set out an assortment of vegetables. “Is fish OK?” she asked, turning to their parents sitting at the table.

Their mother seemed a bit surprised. “Are you cooking?” she asked.

“I’m hungry and I don’t want to wait much later. I’m guessing fish is OK? I’ll have to go buy more tomorrow,” she added almost absentmindedly. Without waiting for permission, she pulled out the boiling pot and steam basket.

“There are leftovers,” their father said, but then he slowly stood up and led their mother to continue their conversation in the family room. Sunal stayed to watch her sister fill the pot and lay the fish from the ice box along the bottom.

“Will there be enough?” Sunal asked.

“There’s only five of us,” Jinnak huffed. She started chopping vegetables while the fish defrosted, and Sunal sat down behind her at the table, staring at nothing in particular. After a moment, Jinnak said, quietly, “have you given much thought to what you’re going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Sunal said. “I suppose I’ll have to go train properly now or something.”

“It’s still your choice, you know.” Jinnak moved the fish onto the steam basket and set the fire below the pot, then sat down where their mother had been sitting. “Don’t let them pressure you into doing anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I’m not entirely comfortable with anything,” Sunal said. “That’s the problem. I can’t just hide from the world, that’s not fair to anybody, but I don’t want to fight, I don’t like to fight, and I don’t want to be some important leader because I’m not a leader-” she paused to take a breath when she noticed her voice getting too loud “-and there’s no way to be myself and make everyone happy, and I just wish I hadn’t been born the avatar.”

For several moments Jinnak didn’t respond. She sat on the kitchen chair watching the flame under the pot of water with her arms crossed, then closed her eyes.

“Well, you were born the avatar,” she finally said, frowning. “You have to deal with that. You spent fifteen years learning the best ways to not deal with it, and now you have got to learn how to deal with it. You can’t-” she sighed, then spoke quieter. “You can’t just keep hiding who you are or wishing it away, Sun. You have to accept yourself and work with yourself.”

With that, she went back to the stove to dump the vegetables into the boiling water. Sunal stared down at the table, the words repeating themselves in her head.

Their father called Mi-ryung in ten minutes later when the meal was done, and the five of them set the table together before sitting down. With her back to the front door, Sunal couldn’t glance at it every few minutes even though she wanted to, her nerves tensing even more as the night wore on. She volunteered to wash dishes when everyone was done, to give her hands something to do. Mi-ryung helped, and they didn’t talk, working silently as they usually did until the table and sink were both clean. Then, trying not to seem too eager, Sunal headed straight towards her bedroom.

Her bed was the bottom of the two, neatly made at all times. She climbed onto it and sat inconspicuously behind the ladder, hugging her knees loosely to her chest, hiding. Mi-ryung followed a few minutes later, closing the door behind her and sitting with her back against the frame of Sunal’s bed. Neither of them said a word for a minute.

“It’s getting late,” Sunal finally spoke.

“No it’s not.” Sunal glanced up at their wall clock, hanging above the bedroom door opposite, and realized her sister was right. Though they had eaten dinner, and everyone was home from work, there was still plenty of the evening left. On a normal night, Jinnak wouldn’t have even been home yet.

“I don’t want the white cloaks to get here, but I won’t be able to calm down until they do. I still won’t be able to calm down when they’re here. I just wish this hadn’t happened.” Sunal buried her face into her knees for the second time that day, and again Mi-ryung said nothing. Still, Sunal found her presence comforting. 

“It’ll probably be better,” Sunal said, mostly to herself, “once they do get here. They can finally tell me what to do. I haven’t known what to do this whole time.”

“What if you don’t like what they want you to do?” Mi-rung asked. She was still watching the doorway.

Sunal thought for a second. “They’ll want me to train with them,” she said. “That’s not news; they’ve wanted me to train with them since everyone found out, when you were a baby. I’ve always known that. I guess I just… wish there was some other way to do it. Training with the Order of the White Lotus…. I’ve never really wanted to. I have no reason to not want to, though.”

“Maybe you do. It might be OK now, but mom didn’t want you to go when you were younger, and she must have had a good reason for it. She doesn’t do things without thinking-” Mi-ryung stopped midsentence as the sisters heard the sound of the front door opening. Sunal felt her breath hitch as they strained to listen through the walls of the apartment. After a moment the door still hadn’t closed, and she quickly climbed off the bed.

Mi-ryung stood up to get out of the way as Sunal quickly changed from the white school shirt she had been wearing to her green tunic. They heard the front door finally close, and a moment later there was a knock on the bedroom door. Jinnak opened it without waiting for a response.

“They’re here,” she said, then “calm down. It’ll be fine.” Sunal nodded but didn’t feel any calmer. Jinnak led both her younger sisters out into the family room, where three men in white cloaks stood waiting. They weren’t in their official Lotus robes, Sunal was relieved to see. Her parents stood, side by side, at the entrance from the kitchen, looking both courteous and anxious.

Captain Zhong was the first to react when the girls walked into the room, bowing slightly. His flanking officers immediately followed suit. “Avatar Sunal,” he said, and she halted immediately at those words. They always called her that when they came over, and she could never them how she disliked it. “It’s a pleasure to meet with you again.”

“Ah,” she said, unable to think of a response. Instead she gave an unconvincing smile

Jinnak crossed the room to join her parents while the officials went to shake Sunal’s hand, as was their custom. Since her parents hadn’t spoken yet, Sunal cleared her throat and offered the men a seat while Mi-ryung, without being told, went to fetch more chairs from the kitchen table. She could feel herself shaking slightly, but forced it down while everyone took a seat, her on the couch with her parents squeezed in next to her, the White Lotus men on wooden kitchen chairs with their backs to the TV, her sisters on either side.

“First things first,” Captain Zhong said to start the meeting. “Because of today’s incident, word of what happened has been spreading around pretty quickly. There will almost definitely be something in the papers tomorrow about this, but we tried to contain things as much as possible. We’ve spoken with your classmates, and their families, and asked them not to talk about what happened for now.”

Sunal nodded along.

“If you wouldn’t mind, though, could you tell us what happened, from your point of view?”

Sunal gulped. She hadn’t actually told anyone in her family about it yet; whatever they knew would have just been the rumors that were already going around town, which must be wildly inaccurate. 

“Um, sure,” she stammered. “It was during class,” she said, nervously spinning the ring on her right hand, “bending class. Ah, we were just doing drills, during group practice, but there was one girl, and…” she took a deep breath before continuing. “And I think she was trying to show off or something? She was firebending, and it went a bit wrong, and I guess she wasn’t paying attention or something, but she, uh, couldn’t control it, and I just… took over? For a second. I thought she was going to hurt someone,” Sunal quickly glanced up into the officer’s eyes before returning her star down to the floor.

It wasn’t an entirely complete account, but she didn’t want to get into the specifics. No one else had been paying much attention at the time; drills were over, the other kids were just chatting amongst themselves while they waited. Sunal was the only one to see how the rogue fireblast had started, and the only one who could respond quickly enough to redirect it. It hadn’t even occurred to her to try making an earth wall to block it. She just grabbed the ball with her bending and slammed it into the floor, for it to fizzle out. No one could even tell what had happened at first.

Captain Zhong nodded while one of his officers took notes. Sunal could feel her mother’s hand move to squeeze her shoulder. It was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture, but she wanted to hide instead of feel the weight of familial pity.

“Your birthday is in seven months,” Zhong said, “you would be turning 16, which is when your official training would begin. However, due to the circumstances, I wanted to offer you a chance to move that up ahead of schedule, and start your training now.”

Sunal swallowed. “What does that mean?” she asked, even though she could hear how stupid the question sounded while she asked it.

“It means leaving home,” he said, now glancing at Sunal’s parents before looking back to her. “We having training facilities across the world, and masters in each art ready to teach you everything you need to know. We’d provide everything you need, as well as instruction.”

Sunal stared down at her hands in her lap. She knew already that she didn’t want to; it wasn’t something she really even had to think about. She could picture in her mind the compounds of training schools, places where benders devoted their lives to fighting, honing an artform that many considered outdated. If she was honest with herself, Sunal sort of agreed with the naysayers.

But she couldn’t say that the men sitting in her living room. They’d devoted their lives to upholding a tradition she didn’t care much about.

When she didn’t respond, Zhong repeated the question. “What do you say?” he asked. “You can train with us and learn all the skills you need to be able to become a fully realized avatar.”

“I don’t…” she started to say, her voice trailing off. “I don’t know,” she tried again. 

Jinnak cut in. “You have to make a decision,” she said. Her arms were crossed in her chair and she stared straight at her sister, unwavering. “You can’t just say ‘I don’t know’ and put this off indefinitely.”

“Now, we don’t want to push you,” Zhong said, bringing the attention back to himself. “Or rush you into doing anything you don’t want to do. But you will have to train eventually, Sunal, and there isn’t much reason to delay any longer.”

“Is this my only option?” Sunal asked in a rush, before she could lose the nerve. Her heart was pounding and she instantly wanted to apologize for the question, but she swallowed and left it. The two officers beside Captain Zhong exchanged looks.

“What do you mean?” Zhong asked. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Not… necessarily. Just… we’ve been talking about my going to train with the Order for so long, like that was the only option. But aren’t there any other options? Avatar Korra was the first one to actually train with the Order of the White Lotus, wasn’t she? Before then, avatars found their own teachers, didn’t they?”

“Before Avatar Korra’s time, the Order of the White Lotus operated on their own, upholding traditions on their own. She was the first to train with the order because she was the first Avatar born since our Order moved to a more… public format.”

It felt like an impromptu and unneeded history lesson. “Right,” Sunal said, “I know that. I’m saying, what if I… found my own bending teachers?” It wasn’t an idea she’d even brought up with anyone before, but judging by the looks on the mens’ faces, it wasn’t a surprise to hear from her.

“On your own?” Zhong asked. “Are you sure? We have the masters of each of the elements all ready to train you at our own facilities. You wouldn’t have to hunt them down on your own.”

“I know,” Sunal looked down at her hands again.

“How do you decide who’s the best?” Everyone looked in surprise at Mi-Ryung, who rarely ever spoke up. Sitting in that chair, the heels of her feet didn’t even hit the floor, so she sat kicking her toes against the carpet, staring at Captain Zhong with her usual serious expression.

“Uh, by skill level. We find the teachers around the world with the highest skill.”

“But you haven’t tested everyone yet, right? Just teachers?”

“Of course we can’t test every single individual in the world – perhaps there are teachers out there unaffiliated with our Order who may be able to teach you more about bending than we can. But if we don’t know about them, I’m not sure how you’re supposed to find them either.”

“It was just an idea,” Sunal cut it. “I don’t want to leave home without knowing what my options are.”

“Isn’t there an option that doesn’t require leaving home?” her mother asked. Her hand was no longer on Sunal’s shoulder, but Sunal knew that was probably for her benefit rather than her mother’s.

“We might be able to bring instructors here to the city to teach Sunal. That would involve coordinating with the city council and finding a place where Sunal could be taught every day without causing a problem, but I’m sure it can be done. The Republic government will probably make as much time and space for the Avatar as needed.”

Jinnak shifted slightly in her chair and spoke up again, asking “can I make a suggestion?” When Zhong nodded, she uncrossed her arms and looked Sunal in the eye. “I think you should leave home,” she said. “Not for any of those reasons,” she added, as Sunal’s face blanched in sudden fear. “Part of your job as Avatar is to watch over the people of the world. You can’t do that if you never leave home. You can’t be expected to know anything about the world if you don’t see it.”

“That’s true,” Captain Zhong said with a nod, turning back to Sunal. “Of course I’d want you to do whatever you felt most comfortable with, but the reason we have training camps all over the world is to enhance the learning experience. You’re not just learning about how to bend each element, but the different cultures of the people where each element comes from.”

Sunal nodded. “Yeah,” she said softly, then, louder, “I just haven’t really made up my mind of what to do yet.”

“What about tomorrow?” Jinnak ask. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“What?”

“You still have school, Sun. Were you planning on going, or had you not thought about that yet?”

“I wasn’t really planning on it,” she reluctantly admitted, staring down at her hands again. 

“If you want to take a couple days off school while you decide,” her mom said, “that’s OK with us.”

Her dad finally spoke up as well, saying “you can’t take off school indefinitely, however. If you don’t want to go, you have to do something.” Sunal nodded again.

“If you come with us,” Captain Zhong spoke up again, “we’ll probably want to leave sooner rather than later. The sooner we can start on your training, the better. We already have transportation ready in the Republic City harbor, and Firebending instructors ready to teach you as soon as we get there”

Sunal raised an eyebrow at that. “I haven’t even learned enough about earthbending though,” she said. “Shouldn’t I master the elements one at a time?”

“Of course, but… you don’t have any practice with any of the other elements, do you? By your age, Avatar Korra had already gone through most of her basic training, and Avatar Aang was already a master of all four elements. What’s wrong?” he asked when Sunal suddenly squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Those two,” she said, “Korra and Aang… they’re the exception.” Every avatar before them, she thought to herself, did things differently. Stop comparing me to them. I already know that I’ll never be as good as them.

“Sure,” Zhong agreed, “but they both ushered in this new era of the world. Things were different back before the Hundred Years War; we can’t always afford to take things slow now. The world needs its Avatar.”

Sunal took a deep breath to steady herself and gather her courage. “Thank you,” she said, somewhat methodically, “but I’ve done some research already, and I believe there are some instructors in Ba Sing Se that I could learn-“

“Sunal,” Zhong tried to cut her off.

“-that I could learn a lot from,” she went on. “I mean no disrespect to you or your order. I know you’ve only ever done the right thing regarding me and my family. But I have to do what I think is the right thing too. And while I believe I could learn a lot from the White Lotus… I think it would be better if I tried to figure things out on my own first.”

“Sunal,” Zhong said again, “are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

She hesitated before responding. “I don’t know if this is what I should do,” she admitted. “Maybe I’ll end up just wasting more of everyone’s time, and I won’t learn anything. But I think even that will be better for me than just doing what everyone tells me all the time.”

“We’re not trying to force you to do anything,” Zhong repeated for the umpteenth time, but at the same moment Jinnak also spoke, with a smirk on her face.

“You’re finally growing up.”

Sunal wasn’t sure what to say to that. From his seat across from her, Zhong just sighed, and she could see his shoulders sag just a little. “I’ll train with the Order,” she said, “if things don’t work out like I want. If I go to find a teacher but can’t find anyone who can help me, or if no one will, or if, after six months, I don’t feel like I’ve gotten any better. Then we can call my experiment a failure and I’ll train with the Order. But I want to try it on my own at first.”

It wasn’t until Captain Zhong finally nodded that Sunal realized she was shaking, just slightly. The effort of speaking up, of defying a plan that she had constantly been promised wasn’t even set in stone, had taken its toll on her. She already felt a bit weakened, and wasn’t sure she had the energy to speak up much longer.

“I think we can work with that,” he said. “It’ll be tough, for you, and to be frank I’m not convinced this plan will yield any result. But it’ll be better for everyone if you do things your way, and figure out what’s right on your own.”

“Thank you,” Sunal said, somewhat breathlessly.

“But,” and he raised a finger to emphasize his point, “I can only promise you six months. If you can’t show any improvement in six months, the Order of the White Lotus will want you to come train properly with us.”

“That’s fine,” Sunal said.

“Wait a moment,” her mother cut in quickly. She sat up a bit straighter as well and gave her daughter a stern look. “I don’t know if I really like this plan. You’re telling me you want to cross the border, travel through the Earth Kingdom, all the way to the capital, all on your own? Do you realize how dangerous that is? Do you realize why this concerns me?”

“Sorry,” Sunal mumbled, and her mother sighed. She hadn’t really thought about that yet. She hadn’t even given this plan that much consideration.

“You don’t have to apologize, Sun, just use your common sense. I’ll worry about you no matter what happens, but I don’t think I’m comfortable with you heading out on your own.”

“We can provide protection,” Zhong said, “if that’s what you’re worried about. We would want to do that anyways, to make sure Sunal is watched over and no harm comes to her during her training.” Sunal frowned but she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to counter with. She had proposed this idea in order to get away from the White Lotus, finally, but she also didn’t think it was a good idea to head out on her own, completely unprotected.

Accepting the White Lotus’ offer of protection meant traveling with them, she thought to herself, virtually no different that if she’d gone to their training facilities. The only change was the destination. She stared down at her hands some more, trying to make up her mind, when Jinnak spoke up instead.

“I could go,” she said, even raising one hand a bit before folding it back in her arm. The White Lotus men seemed to have forgotten she was there, and turned to look at her in sync. “I don’t want to speak for Sun but she’s probably a bit nervous about having you guys hang around her so much – no offense. Sun’s shy,” she turned to look directly at Sunal now, “you’d probably be more comfortable if I went along with you, right?”

Sunal didn’t feel much more comfortable at all, but she weighed the odds quickly in her head, and nodded.

“Wouldn’t that be fine?” Jinnak now asked. “I need to get out of the house myself, and Sun and I could use this time to bond. I’ll make sure nothing happens.”

Captain Zhong furrowed his brows before responding, as if trying to think of a good way to get out of this. “Are you sure you’d be up to the task?” he asked. “You wouldn’t just be guarding your sister, you’d be guarding the Avatar, and you don’t exactly….”

His voice trailed off, and Sunal could recognize the look of anger in her sister’s face. “What? I don’t exactly have magic powers like you all?”

“You don’t exactly have training for something like this,” he corrected.

“She’s my sister,” Jinnak retorted, “I’ve been ‘training’ for this since the day she was born. And I’ve taken classes, in self-defense, and boxing, and unarmed fighting. I’m not exactly defenseless.” She involuntarily flexed her bare arm muscles.

Sunal glanced at Mi-Ryung, who instead was gazing past her at their mother. She turned, and saw the look of muted distress in her mother’s eyes. “We’ll be OK,” Sunal said softly, and her mother looked down at her in surprise.

Speaking louder, she repeated, “We’ll be OK. Jinnak can take care of me if anything happens, but nothing will happen; it’s not that long of a trip if we take the trains, and we’ll find boarding at whatever bending college I end up training at. I may be too young to travel on my own, but Jinnak isn’t, she can legally take care of me.”

Her mother still looked worried. “It’s not that I don’t trust you girls to watch out for yourselves, I just don’t want anything to happen to you. And I think this would be good for both of you, I do, I’m just… worried as well.”

“It’s OK,” Jinnak said. She had uncrossed her arms, and when Sunal met her eye, she was actually smiling. “We’ll make sure to call every chance we get.”

Captain Zhong cut in before the conversation could go on for much longer. “I still don’t think I can fully advise following this plan,” he said, and Jinnak cut him off with a sigh.

“It’s Sun’s decision. What do you want to do?”

Except for Mi-ryung who was staring at the carpet, all eyes were on Sunal again. She didn’t have time to gather her courage or find the best words. “I want to go with Jinnak. I want to train like I’m supposed to and if Jinnak can watch over me, that’d be… nice.”

“Avatar,” Zhong started to say, but she shook her head.

“No, I know, but I promise that if I don’t show improvement in six months, I’ll come train properly with the White Lotus. I just want to test myself out first; I think it’s important that I test myself out first. Is that OK?”

Captain Zhong frowned and looked like he couldn’t make up his mind, but after a moment he finally sighed. “Alright,” he said, and Sunal felt like she was suddenly breathing a bit easier. “I’ll have to talk to my superiors about your plan, but we don’t have any authority or right to stop you.” Jinnak had a grin on her face.

“When would you be planning on leaving?” Zhong asked.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jinnak said, looking to Sunal. Sunal didn’t feel even remotely ready at all.

“The sooner the better,” she said.


	2. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pronunciation Guide:  
> Sunal (written 순알 or 筍謁) is pronounced sort of like 'soon-all'  
> Jinnak (written 진낙 or 辰諾) is pronounced sort of like 'chin-nahk' (the 'j' is very soft)  
> Mi-ryung (written 미령 or 美竜) is pronounced sort of like 'me-r'young'

A large duffel bag lay open on Sunal’s bed, only a few items thrown in so far for the trip. More clothes lay piled on the floor in a sort of chaotic order Sunal did not have the energy to work through. Mi-ryung sat cross-legged with her curly black hair in a mess, sorting through what she could.

“So you haven’t actually done any research,” she said.

Sunal stared up at the ceiling from the floor beside her sister, unkempt and still in her nightshirt. “They talk about bending academies at school,” she said, “but I never actually looked into it before. There was no point. I didn’t think I’d be going to study there.”

“So you lied to the white cloaks”

“I lied,” Sunal agreed. She wanted to make up an excuse but there was no real way around it. “And it worked, and now I have to actually figure out what I’m doing.”

Behind them the door creaked open and Sunal tilted her head back until she could see Jinnak, upside down, standing in the doorframe, long hair already pulled back in a half ponytail. “You’re not finished packing?” Jinnak asked, not as angrily as Sunal would have feared. “How long does it take?”

“She can’t decide what to bring,” Mi-ryung answered for Sunal. “I’m helping.”

“Are _you_ finished packing?” Sunal asked. There was a bite in her tone she hadn’t intended, but which she also wasn’t going to apologize for. She stared up at Jinnak from the floor, feeling defiant, while Jinnak stared down at her.

“Pretty much. And you’re just lying there making Mi do all the work for you. That’s pretty rude.”

Sunal frowned but said nothing.

“You said you wanted to leave as soon as possible but you’re sure not acting like it. Mom let both of you stay home today so you better not be taking advantage of it by messing around.” With that, Jinnak walked away, not bothering to close the door behind her. Sunal waited three seconds before stretching her arm out and shutting the door from the floor.

“You only said you wanted to leave soon so you wouldn’t have time to change your mind,” Mi-ryung said.

“Yeah. And it’s not really working.”

“Would you rather go train with the white cloaks?”

“No,” Sunal said. “I’d rather not do anything. I guess nothing really changed.”

*

It took an hour for the two younger sisters to slowly fill Sunal’s duffel bag, choosing what was worth bringing along with her and what would be better left behind. Mi-ryung decided on most of the clothes, simplifying the decisions, and Sunal made an argument for bringing along her handheld gaming system, tucked into the middle on her tunics where it wouldn’t get damaged.

“You’re supposed to be training,” Mi-ryung said when Sunal started to pack the game system and its accessories, “not playing games.”

“Training is playing games, just boring ones where you fight nothing the whole time. Besides, I’m going to be on the train a lot, and I’ll need something to do.”

Mi-ryung said nothing else on the matter. It didn’t take Sunal long to go through her jewelry, given that she rarely wore jewelry anyways. There was also a stack of unread books sitting on their dresser, which she carefully picked two from and tucked into the side of the duffel bag.

When the duffel bag was as full as they could think to make it, Sunal changed into her last unpacked green tunic and hoisted the bag out into the living room, dropping it beside Jinnak’s on the floor behind the couch.

“I’m going to work,” Jinnak, who was finishing a plate of leftovers in the kitchen, said, “and apologizing for having to quit on such short notice. The train tonight is at nine, in case you forgot already. Are you finished packing?”

“Mostly,” Sunal said. “I have enough clothes and some books but I don’t know what else I’ll want to bring.”

“Probably nothing – the lighter we pack the better. We might bring some food though, since eating on the train will get expensive. I don’t want to use too much of my savings.”

Sunal frowned awkwardly. “There’s, uh, also the Lotus money,” she pointed out.

“Which I don’t want to use too much of either. Also that’s yours,” Jinnak huffed.

“I’m not using it,” Sunal’s voice dropped to a mutter as she spoke. If Jinnak heard her, she ignored her. She grabbed her shoulder bag from the back of the kitchen chair she had been sitting at and headed towards the door, warning Sunal to keep an eye on the place before she shut it behind her.

Mi-ryung came out of the hallway a few minutes later as if to check if Jinnak really had left. “What are we going to do for the rest of the day?” she asked. They’d never had the house to themselves before.

Sunal glanced at the TV but wrote it off as an option. She didn’t want to spend her last day with her little sister watching some show neither of them cared much about. “Let’s go outside,” she finally said.

The garden out behind the apartment block was empty as usual, except for the small gathering of little spirits that had come to sleep in or play about the sprouting vegetation. They crowded around Sunal and Mi-ryung’s feet when the girls stepped through the gate, small little semi-luminescent creatures barely taller than their ankles, then went back to their game.

“Will you be OK with just mom and dad?” Sunal asked as she crouched down by the garden bed. Their garden spirit slept under some tomato leaves, and Sunal tickled it softly with a finger until it giggled and stood up, awake. Mi-ryung, who didn’t interact much with the spirits, stood back to watch.

“I should be fine,” she said.

“But it’ll be weird; it’s never been just you three before.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Sunal stood up with the little garden spirit balancing in her palm, staring up at her. It glowed just slightly, and looked like a clump of dirt and rock that had somehow been brought to life. Sunal turned and held her hand out a bit for Mi-ryung to see.

“We’re the only earthbenders around here,” she said, “so you’ll have to be friends.”

Mi-ryung took a step closer and held out her hands, to take the little spirit, but it ignored her. When Sunal tried to move it closer, to coax it into her little sister’s hands, it wriggled uncomfortably and jumped down, landing with a soft thud on the garden soil and scampering off to join the game the other spirits had going on

“I’ll try,” Mi-ryung said, dropping her hands, “but the garden will still grow even if it doesn’t like me, right?”

“It doesn’t know you yet. And I don’t want it to think the people don’t care about the garden, any more than I’d want you to be lonely.”

Against the nearby wall was a wooden bench, overlooking the scene. Mi-ryung turned then to sit on it, resting her head against the wall behind her to look into the sky. “I won’t be lonely,” she said. Her feet, as before, were too short to fully touch the ground while sitting. Sunal was pretty sure she was lying.

“Do you know how to set the rows?” Sunal asked to change the subject. “It makes it easier for everyone so I just do it between planting seasons.” Mi-ryung raised an eyebrow.

“They don’t teach that in primary school,” she said. Sunal thought she could detect a hint of sarcasm in her sister’s voice.

“It’s not hard, you just have to focus.” Sunal slipped her sandals off and stepped down firmly at the edge of the garden bed. The ground rumbled slightly, confusing the little spirits playing between the plants. Nothing changed except some patches of dirt, which had been displaced by the spirits, were moved back onto the garden mounds. Mi-ryung frowned slightly from her seat.

“You want me to do this for you when you’re gone?” she asked.

“You don’t have to, but…” Sunal’s voice trailed off. She reevaluated the reason why she was telling Mi-ryung all this. “Yeah,” she finally said, “actually. They’ll need someone to do it.”

“And you want me to make friends with the garden spirit too?” The resident spirit stopped where it was and turned back to look at Mi-ryung for the first time, hearing that it was being talked about.

Sunal left her sandals where they were and sat down on the bench beside Mi-ryung. “Yeah,” she said. “It’ll need friends.”

“It looks like it has friends,” Mi-ryung said, watching the spirit poking along the garden rows with several more following behind it, some strange wordless game they only knew the rules to. Beside her on the bench, Sunal thought Mi-ryung seemed so small. She definitely was short for her age.

“Human friends,” Sunal clarified. “Most spirits do, especially resident spirits.”

Mi-ryung considered for a moment before finally saying, “OK.” She didn’t add anything to that, not even a nod. She just continued staring out over the garden, eyes dark against her pale skin. It seemed paler than usual, out in the sun, next to Sunal’s own dark skin.

“I don’t know where I’m going,” Sunal finally confessed, after they’d been sitting there for a few minutes.

“Because you lied about having done any research.”

“Right. And the train for Ba Sing Se leaves tonight, and I don’t know where I’m supposed to go once I get there. And I wish you were coming with us.”

“I can’t.”

“I know.”

“But I can help you figure out where you’re going.” Sunal looked at her in confusion. “We have the whole rest of the day,” Mi-ryung explained, “we can do a little bit of research in a whole afternoon.

The girls left the garden and headed back inside, Sunal carrying her sandals in her hand and scratching the dirt off her thick soles on the entry mat to the apartment. Mi-ryung headed straight towards the family computer, a large clumsy looking thing that sat on a desk in the corner of the living room. In the two minutes it took to boot up, Sunal readied some leftovers for lunch, and Mi-ryung pulled the chairs up around the desk for them to sit together

“We’re not supposed to eat and use the computer at the same time,” Sunal said, “but I won’t tell if you won’t.” She carried their two plates in her hands and Mi-ryung took the center seat at the computer. The keys on the keyboard were split up in characters that came quicker to her than to Sunal, who hadn’t been using them for as long.

“Soon a lot of writing will be like this,” their father had said when they’d bought the computer. “They’re already using this in the Earth Kingdom. It’s much easier to learn than formal writing”

With the home screen finally loaded up, Mi-ryung navigated to network directory. “It’s like a digital phonebook,” she explained as Sunal ate. “We can look up almost anything.”

Their mother was the first to return home, hours later, and found both girls still huddled around the computer, evidence of their rule-breaking expertly hidden in the sink. Sunal rushed the hide the paper she had been writing on, not wanting her mother to know how much of her research was last minute.

“I hope you two didn’t just play video games all day,” their mother said.

Sunal almost wanted to point out that they weren’t playing video games, but decided against it. “We packed,” she said instead, gesturing to the duffel bags still sitting behind the couch.

“I helped” Mi-ryung added. At Sunal’s whispered instruction, she closed out of what she was doing, and both girls stood up to leave to computer.

“That’s good,” their mother said. “How much time until your train leaves?” Her voice betrayed a slight hesitancy in the question.

Mi-ryung ducked into the kitchen as Sunal glanced at the clock to see the time. “Five hours,” she said. “That’s still quite a bit of time.” Her mother nodded.

“Did anyone stop by today?” Sunal raised an eyebrow.

“Are we expecting anyone to stop by?”

Her mother shrugged, and settled down into the cushioned rocking chair. “I think the White Lotus might make another appearance today. They didn’t say for sure though.” Inwardly Sunal cringed.

“Why? Just to make sure I don’t change my mind again?”

“Just to be bothersome and in our way again,” her mother answered with a sigh, and leaned back with her eyes closed as if she was going to take a nap. Mi-ryung, with her head in the fridge, actually giggled.

A moment later she reappeared with two bars of chocolate. She handed one to Sunal without a word, and fetched the video game controller from the coffee table. “Those are supposed to be a secret,” their mother mumbled jokingly as the girls broke their deserts open.

“Where did you go to learn waterbending?” Mi-ryung asked their mother while the game loaded. “Did they have classes back then?”

“Here they did. I was behind in my bending class, because they stuff we learned as children back at home was more domestic. I could freeze water before anyone else but that’s about it. I didn’t take any classes after high school though. There was no need.”

Sunal ate and said nothing.

By the time Jinnak returned from work, no longer employed, the others were starting on dinner. Sunal chopped vegetables and tried not to let the sight on her older sister, which reminded her of how soon it would be until they had to leave home, stress her out. Jinnak left to change into a tank top, but returned a minute later.

“Are you packed?” she asked. Sunal gestured to the duffel bags still sitting behind the couch.

“Yeah,” she said. “Everything I could think of. We’ve still got three hours though.”

“Better to be ready though, so you’re not stuck packing still while mom and dad want to see us off.”

“I’m packed,” Sunal reiterated, feeling annoyed now.

Her mother sensed this, and changed the subject. “We’ll have to call your school tomorrow, since you didn’t go over today. Tell them what’s going on.”

Sunal frowned. “Do you really have to though?”

“School in mandatory in the United Republic, Sun. They won’t just let you drop out without a word.”

“Just tell them I’m studying in the Earth Kingdom for a while,” Sunal said. “It’s true, after all.”

Her father returned home just as the pot of thick stew started to bubble. Jinnak kept glancing at the clock as they ate, not wanting to be any later than necessary. There was a minor expression Sunal could see, buried behind both her parents’ faces as they ate and talked, avoiding the elephant in the room. It was anxiety, she finally decided. They wanted to make sure they got the most out of the last hours together with their eldest daughters, so much so that the conversation seemed a bit forced at times.

When they finished eating, Mi-ryung and Sunal pulled aside her duffel bag and went through it again, to make sure she had everything. Their mother went through the bag with them, reminding Sunal that she’d need her toothbrush, or menstrual hygiene supplies, and questioning the importance of bringing along a video game. Jinnak, listening in while she washed dishes, huffed.

Both duffel bags ended up on the cleared kitchen table before long, while the food pantries were being raided. “If we’d thought about it,” Sunal’s mother said, “we could have gone out shopping for you. Grabbed some things you’d need, so you don’t have to spend as much money.” She added some cans to Jinnak’s bag, padding them around the clothing so they wouldn’t get dented, and Sunal silently wondered how they were supposed to open those cans when it came time.

“What are you doing for money, by the way?” their father asked. He tried to hand their mother an uncut loaf of bread, but she just responded a stern frown.

“I have enough in my savings to cover our food expenses, as long as we don’t eat anywhere too expensive.”

“Oh no, I hope not,” their mother said. “Don’t use up your savings for this, Jin. We can go to the bank for you, put some money into your account.”

“I’ve got my Lotus money,” Sunal said again, embarrassed even as she mentioned it. The Order of the White Lotus insisted on setting up an account for the family of the Avatar, but as unearned money they refused to touch it, and Sunal had largely ignored it as well. “Things like this are the only reason it’s there.”

A crease appeared in her mother’s brow. “I guess,” she said noncommittally.

Though he was good about hiding it, Sunal could tell that her father was starting to get frantic. He hadn’t been still since they finished dinner, walking around the apartment to finish odd jobs and chores that weren’t important straightening out books and such. With the train now leaving in just about an hour, the reality of the situation, that his daughters would be leaving home, for real, must be hitting him. 

Jinnak and Sunal carried their own duffel bags out the door, despite their father offering to carry them for the girls. Jinnak raised an arm and flexed when he’d offered, saying she was strong enough and not to bother, and Sunal mumbled some excuse about wanting to get used to the weight on her shoulder. Really she just didn’t want to impose on her father more than she already had.

The ride to the train station, cut into the outer wall of the city, was silent. Only three other people were taking the bus that late at night, and the family already stood out too much.

Sunal’s mother offered to buy the tickets once they got to the station, leaving the rest of the family to wait awkwardly in the nighttime mass of individuals waiting at the station. The paper Sunal had written earlier, while sitting at the computer with Mi-ryung, had been folded up into her tunic pocket. Half of the school names she had written down were not even in Ba Sing Se, but it seemed too late to mention that now.

There were multiple platforms branching out of the outer city wall. As they passed from the waiting room onto their platform, a large covered space with three different tracks where a few dozen other people waited for the train to make its way out of the maintenance center, Sunal realized she was technically leaving the city walls, for the first time in her life. The dark sky above the glass ceiling didn’t seem like much, cloud covered as it was, but it was her first view outside of the walls.

“I’ve never left the city before,” Sunal said without thinking about it. There had never been reason to leave the city walls, nothing nearby that wasn’t too expensive for the family to travel to. She’d never seen the rocky countryside firsthand.

Her mother said something comforting about how the girls would be OK on their journey, then handed them each their ticket while Sunal continued to stare down the tunnel that separated the platform area from the open country. She didn’t notice Jinnak was watching her, until she quietly cleared her throat and said “me neither. But we won’t get to see much of it at night, with it as dark as it is.”

“The moon is covered,” Mi-ryung commented. She was staring at the glass ceiling.

Their father chuckled a little at this. “We never really saw much of the world, have we? You’ll have to make up for that,” he gently patted Sunal on the shoulder, “for the rest of us.”

A bench opened up nearby as a man, seeming to have forgotten something and running off to fetch it, left his seat. Mi-ryung scooted over towards it and waited for her parents to sit down, and then her older sisters, before perching on the last available edge. The duffel bags went on the floor after what seemed like too long of a wait to Sunal’s shoulder.

“You’ve left the city before,” Mi-ryung said, leaning over to look at her father from across her sisters.

“A few times, sure,” he admitted. “But I’ve never left the Republic. And I never really lived outside of the city, not for more than a few days.”

Mi-ryung nodded understandingly, and Sunal wanted to chuckle. It felt weird getting their father to talk about his past, even though they already knew most of it anyways. He didn’t like to talk about himself, or tell stories about growing up.

“What about you, mom?” Mi-ryung asked. “Do you remember anything from before you moved here?”

Their mother smiled. “Not very much,” she said. “I was only around five, and I thought it was really hot here.”

“Compared to the North Pole, sure,” Jinnak said. Then she laughed softly, and their mother joined in, and Sunal thought she could feel something changing. The clock on the wall said their train should be arriving any minute, and just before it did, and she and Jinnak left the city for the first time ever, it was like the family was opening up. They weren’t talking about anything serious, but it was the way they were talking, trying not to say goodbye, that made Sunal want to break down and hug them all.

“We should go visit one day,” Jinnak was saying. “We have family there, right?”

“Where? The North Pole? I’m sure I have some cousins I don’t know about. My parents used to write their families much but I never got to know them. And the trip would be too expensive. A plane would be impossible to afford, and sailing there….”

“I’ll be going to the North Pole sometime,” Sunal cut in, as her mother’s voice trailed off. “For training,” she explained, when the others looked at her in confusion. “I’ll have to learn waterbending eventually and they’ll want me training at the element’s home nation, so… I’ll be heading that way, sometime. And you guys can come visit me – I’m sure the White Lotus would pay for it.”

No one said anything for a moment, and then Sunal’s mother reached over her husband and Jinnak to rest a hand on Sunal’s knee, the only part of Sunal she could reach easily without getting up. It was meant to be comforting but just seemed weird to Sunal. “Oh Sun,” her mother said, in a sad sort of voice.

“I didn’t even think of that,” Sunal’s father said, reaching an arm around his wife’s waist to comfort her right back. “We’ll have to do that, when it comes to that. But that won’t happen for a few years. You’ve got to focus on one element at a time.”

Sunal glanced around the platform as he said that, hoping no one was close enough to be able to overhear them, or understand their conversation. 

The train came before anyone could say anything else. They heard it before it could be seen, whistling to let the station workers know it was coming, shaking the rails with its weight and movement, and blowing off noisy gusts of steam. The front light on the engine was on, blinding the platform for a minute before it pulled up straight, out onto its tracks, slowing to a stop. From end to end, the train stretched out across the entire platform, the nose of the engine just crossing into the outside tunnel

The platform went from quiet to deafening in minutes, even without the large crowds of a morning or midday train. Station workers hurried to prep the train’s wheels, shouting instructions to each other, while conductors called out to the engine workers in greeting, then to the station guests for boarding. The others who had been waiting all across the platform meandered forward, raising their voices over the din in conversation with each other. The small family of five sat at their bench for a moment without moving as the rest of the platform sprang into motion.

In a simultaneous delayed reaction, the entire family stood up together. Jinnak and Sunal slung their duffel bag back over their shoulders, and their father took the first steps forward, leading the rest of them to the train.

Several yards away from the tracks they had to stop again, as the crowd of passengers waiting to get their tickets checked started to become too dense. “Do you have your tickets ready?” Sunal’s mother asked at least twice, making Jinnak and Sunal hold them up for her to inspect.

“We’re fine,” Jinnak tried to reassure her. Their father kept glancing over at the train, the giant metal machine that now dominated the room, and at the large clock sitting against the wall that assured them that they still had ten minutes to board.

“We’ll miss you,” Sunal said, just barely loud enough for her parents to hear. She didn’t want to admit it but she knew it had to be said.

“We’ll miss you too,” her mother said, and her face started to contort just slightly, the way it would just before crying. Jinnak hugged her before that could happen, dropping the duffel bag on the floor and wrapping her arms around her mother’s torso.

After a moment Sunal hugged her father as well. His embrace was tighter than she expected, and he let her go after a few seconds longer than he normally would have. She made a mental note to hug him more often, when they got to see each other again.

Then they switched, Jinnak hugging her father as Sunal’s mother wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. Sunal could feel her shaking just a little bit, trying to hold the tears in.

The conductor called out again, even though they were the only passengers still on the platform. Jinnak knelt to hug Mi-ryung as Sunal stood back, looking at both her parents together. “I’ll call,” she promised, “when I can.”

“You better,” her mother said. She was smiling, but it was too forced.

“I’ll make sure of it,” Jinnak said as she stood up. “We’ll be fine; you guys have to take care of yourselves while we’re away, too. Make sure the apartment is still there to come back to.”

Mi-ryung stood beside her parents and nodded, and for a moment Sunal wondered if she should hug her too. They’d shared a room practically their whole lives, and never hugged, never showed their love that way. They were closer to each other than to anybody else, but it still felt hard to show that the way others did.

“You remember what I talked to you about?” Sunal asked. Mi-ryung nodded. “Good.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “I’ll miss you.”

Mi-ryung nodded again, and that seemed like that needed to be said. The conductor, wanting to be polite, asked them nicely if they intended to board the train, then checked Jinnak’s and Sunnal’s tickets before ushering them up the steps. Sunnal turned halfway up them to get one last look at her parents and her little sister, before allowing herself to be led into the train to leave.


End file.
